V
Sheriff Miles Plutchess was standing in the doorway of his office as Sergeant Allen and Helen entered the police station. He was a rotund man, decked out in police-issue crew cut and mustache, a dead ringer for Farva from the movie Super Troopers, only older and more dimwitted. How he was ever voted as county sheriff was a constant mystery to Allen. He knew he lived in a backwater country pit, but he still expected more from his community than Miles Plutchess. Sure, he was the son of the only true rich family in town, but he was the dumb and overweight son who stayed home and did nothing with his life. His older brother was in the Florida legislature up in Tallahassee. Miles was a shit kicker in high school who was almost dishonorably discharged during his brief stint in the armed forces soon after. His only choice was the police academy, which he also almost flunked out of. He had hoped to join the force in nearby Polk County, where the town of Lakeland offered a large variety of crime to prevent and ass to kick. But his poor grades and poor performance at the academy led him to return home with his tail between his legs and join the force in Coleman. He worked as a deputy for a while, but his mother soon used her rather large influence and convinced him to run for sheriff. He lost his first bid but won his second. Since then, he has been voted back into the position three more times. Allen couldn't think of anyone less qualified to be sheriff than Miles. He was the epitome of failing upward.
Allen was everything that Miles was not. He was fit and chiseled; some would say movie star handsome. They shared the same hairstyle and facial hair, only Allen made it work, whereas Miles didn't. Allen had been near the top of his class at the police academy and had chosen to join the Coleman police force, turning down a more lucrative salary at the state penitentiary on the edge of town. He resented Miles Plutchess to no end. Allen respected hard work and those who earned their keep. Miles was none of those things and proud of it.
"Can you tell me what the fuck is happening out there, sergeant?" Sheriff Plutchess screamed as Allen and Helen approached.
"What, no one has told you?" Allen replied, his eyes narrowed.
"The phones are ringing off the hook! They're saying it's a goddamn massacre! But giant bugs? I mean, what the fuck, Allen? I'm not a fucking five year old. I know giant bugs don't exist anywhere but monster movies!"
"Well, they sure as shit exist now!" Helen shouted at the portly sheriff. "One of those fucking things ate my husband!"
"Come again?" Sheriff Plutchess replied, dumbfounded.
"You heard her correctly, sheriff. Giant bugs came out of the ground and started eating everything in site."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me, sergeant."
"I wish I was," Allen replied solemnly.
"Jesus fucking Christ. How big?" Plutchess asked, his hands resting comfortably on his hips, his belly protruding outward.
"Like the size of an alligator," Helen replied.
The sheriff's eyes grew wide with fright. Up until that point, he had still held on to the notion that this was just a stupid prank or that his sergeant had been doped up. But the earnestness of their words, partnered with their overall disheveled appearance, made him believe.
"Wait," the sheriff said, remembering something. "Where is Deputy Stone? I thought he went with you?"
"Stone's dead," Allen replied matter-of-factly. "One of those things got him before he could get back to the cruiser."
Allen's eyes turn downcast as the sheriff's grow ever wider.
"I watched him get ripped apart, sir," Allen concluded.
The three of them stood in silence for a long moment. No one could come up with the proper words to fit the moment. Then Miles Plutchess became the old sheriff again.
"Well, you're going to have to write a statement, and I'm gonna have to put it in the report. You know the protocol."
"Fuck the statement!" Allen shouted, causing the other officers in the station to look in their direction. "There are thousands of those fucking creatures headed this way! What the fuck are we going to do about it?"
"Keep your voice down, sergeant!" Plutchess snarled in reply. "Don't forget who you are talking to."
"I'll be talking to a dead man if he doesn't figure out a way to stop these fucking things!"
"Are you threatening me, sergeant?" Plutchess snarled again, this time more controlled and poisonous.
"No, sheriff. I'm not threatening you. Ten thousand insects the size of wild hogs are threatening you! I'm trying to save your dumb ass."
Plutchess suddenly realized that the entire station was watching him get schooled by his subordinate. State of emergency or not, Sheriff Miles Plutchess was not about to let an underling make a fool out of him in front of his men. It was bad for morale. He waited a long moment before looking over to the deputy nearest to them.
"Take this man's badge," Plutchess barked.
The deputy looked up at his sheriff with a mixture of perplexity and fear. He then looked over to Allen, tall, grizzled, and seething. His eyes grew large as the sergeant growled.
"Just try it, deputy," Allen snarled.
Sheriff Plutchess lifted his arms in exasperation, emphasizing that he was both serious and yet not willing to exert physicality to get his point across. Finally, he turned to Allen with eyes narrowed.
"I should take your badge for insubordination alone," he said through gritted teeth. "But seeing as it is a state of emergency..,"
His voice grew louder as he addressed the whole station.
"...but it's all hands on deck."